Smile - Joker Leto Fanfiction - {BWWM} - {COMPLETE}

T H I R T Y F O U R

~ Keeping Tabs ~
~ day 74 ~
• C H E Y E N N E •

I yawn and stretch in my spot on the bed, listening to my bones crackle over the uncomfortable bed. It was the first day of the week that I actually wasn't forced awake and I slept through the night. I sit up, blinking a few times as I stared out the window. It was was a dark, rainy day.

I turn around, feeling weak from my lack of food, realizing that my cell door was open and there was an absence of guards in the hall. It was a Saturday and usually, the guards were more lenient on the weekend, even with me which was surprising when I first got here.

I pull on the thick socks I was issued when I first got here and slip my feet into the flat slippers they gave me. What was I going to do today? It's not like I was allowed to go eat. I could go to the common room and sit there until the end of the day, maybe play games with the more senile inmates. They were the only ones I actually liked because they were older, sweeter. Not annoying or hostile, really, but I'm sure they packed some heat when they were of age.

I pull my hair into a ponytail, making my way towards my cell door when I notice that Graham's cell was open and there were no guards around either. Our free weekends worked on an honor system. As long as we stayed on our good behavior, we kept our open weekends. I would hate to violate that, ruin it for everyone by going into Graham's cell, but I wanted that recorder. He'd been progressively listening to it more and more, getting closer and closer to why I'm here, that I self-surrendered, who I am outside of here, all the crimes I committed, everything I got charged with, including aiding and abetting with Joker.

Looking down the empty hallway, I let my feet carry myself into his cell. Before I knew it I was standing directly in the center of his cell. His boots and sneakers were neatly tucked under his neatly made bed. I chuckle, slowly walking toward his bed. Who knew such a perverted, manipulative idiot was such a little neat freak.

The sound of static from a walkie-talkie down the hall snaps me out of thought. I was here for one thing. Get in, get the recorder, get out. I wouldn't touch any of his things, I wouldn't even rub it in his face that I managed to get the recorder. I'd let him explode when he couldn't find it later.

I lift his pillow and his sheets, messing everything up, but those places were much too obvious. Of course it wouldn't be there. I put my hands on my hips, huffing as I look around the otherwise empty room. It was a four by five cell, fit specifically for a two by four sized bed, and a little cabinet where extra clothes were kept. The rest was moving room.

I never saw when he took the recorder out. Whenever I got picked up for my mealtime, he was lying in bed, watching as I was carted off or he was asleep. By the time I would get back, he'd be wide awake and watching me, the recorder tucked into his pocket. Seconds later, after the guards left us alone for the night, I would hear it playing, either quietly or loudly. Either way, each word was clear enough for me to hear. It made me want to strangle my psychologist, but I knew he was just doing his job. He wouldn't have given Graham the recorder. I just wanted it out of his possession, either way. I didn't care how he got it.

I lick my lips, sitting on the floor in front of the cabinet and pull open the rusty metal doors. His white t-shirts were neatly folded, right next to his neatly folded tank tops, next to his neatly folded sweatpants, right above his neatly folded...socks?

"Weirdo..." I mumble to myself, gently lifting up each article of clothing, of course, finding nothing. I groan, closing the doors and resting my head on the front of the cabinet. There was no way he had it on him. He wasn't that stupid. Actually, he was way too smart to carry it around with him. It had to be in his cell. I lift my head, looking toward his bed once again. My eyes scan the thin mattress before they wander to the spot under it. His shoes. He has huge feet. Duh.